


Woo-hoo!

by hearmyvoice



Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics), DoubleDuck, DuckTales (Cartoon 1987), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Legend of the Three Caballeros (Cartoon), PKNA - Paperinik New Adventures, The Three Caballeros (1944)
Genre: A Lot of Issues, F/F, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, LGBTQ Characters, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot Collection, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-10-17 23:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearmyvoice/pseuds/hearmyvoice
Summary: Life is like a hurricane here in Duckburg.





	1. He and She (ft. Duck Twins)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven long years have passed since they last saw each other. And certainly, nobody knows how to react now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moonvasion! Spoilers.

**Della was furious.**

It was no surprise. In the McDuck family the irascibility flowed through the veins and the temperament was infamous.

She could easily contribute that her father also had anger problems, equally inherited to both she and her brother.

And though they were not as rampant as Donald's, they were still there, latent.

Eager to protect those who loved most.

But now, _he_ was in front of her after eleven long years of estrangement. Ragged, with a beard and grown hair, and a melon under the bandaged arm.

_Wasn't he on vacation on a cruise, living the good life while **she** formed ties with her kids before the invasion?_

She could hardly believe it. The idea that _her own twin_ was hurt in the hands of a Moonlander had never crossed her mind. Penny had been clear: Lunaris was going for the family, not for someone specific. That included her uncle and her boys.

Her main objective had been to protect them, even if it meant running away and looking cowardly, something a McDuck could never have when an adventure was approaching leaps and bounds.

How come she had never thought about the duck with which she shared egg and grew so many years? Sure, she knew who her brother was and she knew what he was capable of defending, he could be the bravest and most capable person she knew.

But eleven years had passed, and he was currently in that state: incommunicado and dirty, when he could have improvised a raft to get out of there.

She could hardly notice how old and exhausted he looked.

"Donald...?" She sighed, feeling the wind fiddle with her hair.

* * *

**Donald was furious.**

It was no surprise. In the McDuck family the irascibility flowed through the veins and the temperament was infamous.

He could easily contribute that his father also had anger problems, equally inherited to both him and his sister.

And though they were more rampant than Della's, earning the fame of Calisota's most irascible duck over her familiarity with the unique and original Scrooge McDuck, they always remained dormant.

Eager to protect those who loved most.

But now, _she_ was facing him after eleven long years of estrangement. Her hair brushed her shoulders, having the same features with which he remembered her. The scarf he had given her at Christmas twenty-three years ago looked intact, and he could see a metal leg when she stopped protecting the children, the recognition worrying her and surprising him, having to hold his buddy so as not to drop him.

_Wasn't she with Uncle Scrooge, planning and battling the aliens while **he** made a new friend and looked for a way out of the desert island without the sea, his most faithful partner, dragging him back? All while witnessing the invasion, sweating and crying bitterly for not knowing what to do, or how to communicate with his family?_

He could hardly believe it. The idea that _his own twin and four kids _were stranded with him had never crossed his mind. She had always known how to use bad luck in her favor unlike him, something he had secretly envied for a long time. And he had warned the family about the invasion.

His main objective had been to escape from the island. Or rather, return with his family. As the months passed, the hope of being searched had remained intact while building rafts that were destroyed within a few seconds. He thought that was achieved when he saw his uncle's plane land.

How come they look surprised to see him? Sure, he knew he didn't have an _important_ role in the adventures compared to Della, Scrooge or even Mrs. B., but it was impossible that they forget him, right?

_Right?_

He could hardly notice the age lines on his sister's face, as young and full of life as he remembered her unlike him.

"Della...?" He spoke in a voice thread, looking sideways at the speechless expressions of his nephews. His', crestfallen, was morphed by the female duck's stupefaction. He raised the melon in front of him, forcing the voice: "_Hot dog_, we got company!"

* * *

Time had stopped for both. Suddenly, the invasion had gone to the background, and the weight of the eleven years finally fell square on his shoulders, perhaps with more force than planned.

There were many words to say and little time to say them.

**Della** didn't know where to start, maybe an apology for taking the Spear of Selene? Thank him for the excellent job he did taking care of the boys—even if Louie took the time tub during his absence? Or just let her emotions dominate her and throw herself into her brother's arms in tears?

**Donald** didn't know where to start, maybe claim her for the Spear of Selene, how dummy she had been about it? Scream how much he had missed and needed her to care for three rambunctious ducklings? Or just hug her tightly and with the repressed fraternal love for more than a decade?

What they knew was that they couldn't believe who the person in front of them was.

Della wanted to believe that it was a product of despair and stress.

Donald wanted to believe it was an illusion of Magica.

And the kids were watching everything expectants, nostalgic smiles knowing what this meant for both adults.

But of course, they were McDucks.

And they were **furious**:

_"Where have you been?!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short stories involving the Duckverse. Some Donald-centrics' because he is my favorite character but it can be about other characters as well.


	2. Graceful (ft. Dorkules)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storkules could have a longer period of life than any mortal and all the treasures of the world. But there was nothing he appreciated more than being Donald's best friend.

There was nothing Storkules could be more grateful for than being the best friend of the mighty and noble Donald Duck.

It was hard to explain. Since he was a young demigod, he had stood out in Ithaquack for his enormous kindness and naivety over his prominent muscles, supposedly inheriting mostly the character of Mother Alcmena, thus winning the hearts of their people.

It also helped, as he accidentally heard, that he did not inherit the flirtatious and promiscuous character of Father, but he was no one to judge his beloved family when it had been granted such a wonderful sister as Selene. That said he could also have more siblings, but the stork has never really known them as much as he wanted and could not by not living in Olympus since he had memory.

When Scrooge McDuck arrived in Ithaquack, however, accompanied by a couple of young mortals everything had changed. The female one, smallest by a few centimeters compared to Scrooge, had been excited at the idea of knowing gods, quickly obtaining the friendship and affection of his sister.

The male, taller one, on the other hand, was someone quite difficult to impress even with the many treasures that they carried with them—for someone who has traveled the world from an early age, as the fiery Della Duck babbled while inflating her chest with pride, thus earning Storkules's respect.

But it hadn't been until he saw him beat a herculean minotaur with his bare hands that he discovered Donald's true potential, thus earning an admiration just as immense as that beast.

How could someone so small be so strong and equally incredible? He didn't know it, and he felt really lucky to have met him.

* * *

"The night sky looks lovely, don't you think, best friend Donald?" He had asked him a night when the duck's family had settled on a vacation. Both were lying in the sand crossing their arms behind their heads, watching the stars and forming strange constellations while Della and Selene had vanished who-knows-where to do who-knows-what.

The teenager made a gesture of shrugging, crossing both legs and feeling his ankles sink slightly into the sand.

"I admit, it's lovely when the smog doesn't cover it. But I'll always prefer the ocean, there's no doubt about that.” As he spoke, a smile formed on his face as he fiddled with the hem and buttons of his flannel shirt, inhaling the scent of sea salt.

Out of the corner of his eye, the demigod sensed how delighted his companion looked when he heard the ocean hitting the coast, putting aside his _devil-may-care_ _and mature_ idealism, and could not help smiling.

"Oh, noble Donald, how glorious that you are so passionate about what you like." Trying not to raise his voice so as not to interrupt the quiet atmosphere that had formed and attract Father's attention, the imposing Storkules wrapped the duck's body in a bonebreaker hug, snuggling against him in the sand.

Staying faithfully quiet when Donald shivered. Fortunately for him, Storkules could not see his cheeks flushed over the plumage.

Discreetly, Donald snuggled into the demigod's arms, watching from that position the stars next to his partner.

* * *

However, what the stork most appreciated now that he lived with the sailor after so many years of separation, were the nights when he could accompany him.

It was no secret that his friend's dream was delicate, especially when there was something that bothered him. And having someone to let off steam with was perhaps the greatest release he could have suffered.

"Surely it doesn't bother you, Storkules?" He murmured one night as he sat on the edge of the pool, sinking his feet in the water and keeping quiet when he attached him to his body. He smelled to ashes after having confronted Zeus one more time, but the herculean bird could not care less while gently preening his hair feathers.

If he was wiggling his tail, none had the prudence to mention it in honor of Donald's sailor pride.

"Bother me? But best friend Donald, you can never bother me. Your strong attitude is what makes you _you_, and I admire you just the way you are" without stopping to hug the duck, he pointed a finger proudly at the sky.

True to his word, he had always heard him in his sorrows, though it was difficult to make him not break anything in the process. And much harder it was to keep calm when he broke into tears, but it had always helped him wake up calmer the next morning.

And even if it wasn't a secret, Storkules' favorite moments were when, after letting off steam, Donald fell asleep into his arms, because not only did he look more relaxed and better with himself, but he was also entrusting him with the great task of watching and caring his rest.

During those nights, while accommodating him in his hammock and tucking him, it was when the demigod was proud to have met a mortal as fantastic as Donald Duck.

And really attractive as well, but he would say that openly when he felt he was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Donald is very OoC, but most of the fics of this ship are very fluffy and they infected me.


	3. The most charming welcome (ft. Scrooge McDuck and Duckworth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a day at work, Scrooge can't wait for the next adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the LDU, aka the universe in which Scrooge is a loving father with his boy and Duckworth is there.

Scrooge could be the smartest and toughest man the world could have known, and he couldn't be more proud. He had earned that reputation cleanly over the years as he became the richest duck and traveled the world finding treasures, solving mysteries and rewriting history.

But there were other times when he had to return to ordinary life, be an ordinary duck and work as the keen businessman he was.

And after a busy day at work, it was time to go home. Sometimes, he wondered how that could exhaust him more than a day of adventures in which he used his mind and body more; however, he could not say that he was essentially exhausted, not now.

Arriving at the mansion, the Scotsman sensed the lights on and checked his pocket watch. He had returned a little earlier than usual, two hours in advance.

Well, that explains a lot of things.

Maybe he could discover a new mystery to solve. After all, the adventure awaits him, it had always been that way.

And so it was as soon as he entered the manor, when he was received by the sighting of his baby-proof furniture, making him smile warmly.

"I'm home," he raised his voice. One could expect the crying of a baby as his sleep was interrupted so abruptly; but Scrooge knew his family, and the member in question never used to be awake when he returned unless it was from an adventure.

It was not long until he saw the figure of a nestling crawling towards him, still peeping while being watched by Duckworth, who was holding a small blue towel. He only wore his diaper with anchors print.

"Mr. McDuck, you arrived early," Duckworth said, gently taking the toddler and watching him shake his arms and legs between twittering. "You arrived just in time for Donald's bath time. He's usually very slippery so it will be nice to be able to count on your help."

Involuntarily, a small smile had formed on Bautista's face, seeing how happy the young master looked. It was common when his dear ol' unkie was so busy, being so cheerful just seeing his uncle cross the porch had become routine; but that didn't make him less charming in the eyes of the butler.

Scrooge, on the other hand, rubbed his chin, pretending to think carefully and smiling discreetly as he watched his nephew squirm in the dog's hands, stopping to tweet to make a saliva bubble.

"Well, Ah dinnae see why not, if that means hav'ng Donald's baby smell." Trying to hide the warmth in his smile, he took the baby from his employee's hands. Not surprisingly, Donald had minimized his movements as soon as he was in his uncle's hands, beginning to suck his thumb.

Duckworth had turned to return to the washroom, keeping quiet when he watched his employer kiss his duckling's head, muttering intelligible things to him as he followed, smiling sideways to continue preparing everything for the boy's grooming.

Because yes, Scrooge McDuck could be a shrewd adventurer and a renowned businessman, he acknowledged it, he had earned that reputation cleanly.

But what the media did not know, and what he believed was a secret to Duckworth, was that the funniest adventure for him was the adventure of fatherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the only difference that Scrooge usually goes on adventures and Donald is in the care of his second father (?).  
Will ya forgive me, galoots?


	4. Trouble Sleeping (ft. Moon Squad)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you can't sleep, sometimes talking to someone can be a great help. Especially if it allows you to release weight from your shoulders.

Penumbra had never had trouble sleeping. Even with Della's snoring echoing in the room, she had always managed to fall asleep when they lived on the Moon; but now that he had a room in her _uncle's _domains, it was impossible.

She didn't know if it was because of the transition from the Moon to Earth, the weight that gravity installed on her, and she could easily rule out the snoring that somehow was louder because she had gotten used to them, but she just _couldn't._

She tried any position that made her feel more comfortable and even considered kicking the woman out of bed—perhaps the fact that she was so attached to her was the problem; but an awake Della Duck was more problematic than a sleeping Della Duck.

Besides that she could barely move her limbs.

Maybe she could walk the halls. Both Della and Donald had already guided her enough through the mansion that was already unlikely to be lost in them.

Again.

And maybe it allowed her to reduce the amount of energy in her body. She was so used to always being alert and going through Tranquility until the dream dominated her that she saw that as a more feasible hypothesis.

With more effort than was required, she took Della's hands and carefully removed them from her hips, attentive to the duck’s grunts until she instantly released her and turned, turning her back and snoring again.

She put a hand on her chest to sigh with relief and withdrew strands of hair that had strained to her face, holding her breath to get out of bed.

In that she was not worried about waking her roommate. She knew she had a heavy enough dream not to wake up to the movement in bed until she was forced to it.

And that she gave a little jump in the bed when she managed to get up didn't seem to wake her up either, so the former lieutenant and captain didn't seem to have anything to worry about either.

She slowly left the room and closed the door again. The lights were completely off, the Moon being the only one that illuminated the halls.

But the truth is that she still didn't get used to the absence of sound. Though it was her gun firing, Della roaming the room rummaging through her things while still chattering, the Moonlanders walking the halls of her home planet, or even her friends' family playing or talking to each other, Penumbra couldn't remember the last time she was surrounded by so much silence.

It was awkward, in a sense. And she found herself involuntarily humming Della's lullaby until she fell silent, feeling the heat rise up her cheeks. Unfortunately, the presence of the Duck family in her life had had more impact on her than she thought, but she would deny that Della's was the one who had the greatest influence as she walked the halls, observing the closed doors of the rooms.

She had not yet memorized in which rooms Donald and the other family members slept, and that each closed door was the same as the other did not help her at all. She really wanted to see if she had someone to talk to so she could sleep.

After all, Della's _children_ and the little duck that always accompanied them seemed really interested in knowing her better as well as her _uncle,_ Della was the one who knew her most and the interactions she had with Donald have been really scarce that currently the only thing he knew about her was that she was friends with his sister.

These thoughts, however, were interrupted when she approached the main staircase, from which she could see a light burning in one of the adjoining rooms and could hear the sound of webbed feet, at which her military instinct appeared. Holding on to the railing, she tiptoed in every rung—fortunately being well secured so that they do not squeak.

That the movement remained at the same level indicated to the alien that she was being silent enough, which really surprised her when her movements were always noisy.

But if someone was really trying to get into the family's territory, they were making a serious mistake, especially if they thought they could go unpunished. Because while she didn't have her ray gun, she still had her fists, and her vast training had made her as powerful as a weapon.

“Stop there!” Ignoring the noise she might cause, she kicked the door. On the other side, Donald started, releasing the fragile ivory cup he held between his wings.

But despite the efforts of the duck, it was Penumbra who managed to catch the object before it touched the ground.

“Hey! What is the big idea?!” and though she showed no signs of understanding him because, in addition, he had murmured, Penumbra acknowledged that he was angry at the abrupt way in which he snatched his cup while recovering his breath “do you want to wake up the children?”

"Um... sorry?" She blinked, watching how a dark, smoky liquid was served. Coffee, or so they called it. She really didn't care.

However, the Moonlander did not perceive the sound of footsteps, so they could easily assume that the rest of the family was still in their lethargy. That served to make Donald sigh, calming down again.

"You can't sleep either, huh?" He took the cup slowly turning it in circles, grinning grimly at his reflection, barely visible, in the black coffee.

Penumbra, despite not fully understanding the duck, could distinguish some words and denied. Despite the absence of light, the former captain was able to perceive the black bags under his narrowed eyes, or the way his nightcap was twisting.

Donald showed no signs of moving except to put the coffee maker in the sink, drinking loudly from the steaming black coffee.

“What are you thinking about?" Penumbra entered the kitchen, leaning on the island while looking at the sailor.

She didn't know if it was about the hour, the adventure that the family had had hours ago, or the recent job that takes up a lot of his nighttime (whatever that was), but she couldn't deny that he looked too exhausted for her taste.

And she could not assure that this exhaustion was only physical.

"Nothing, it's silly..." Donald spoke slowly, dragging the words so that Penumbra could understand him more easily.

The alien blinked. “We have all night” the ‘or until the dream defeats us’ was implicit, and she knew that the earthling recognized it by the way his gaze barely softened as he took another drink at his coffee.

But Donald knew that it was not healthy for his mental health to suppress his problems, or that is what Jones told him when he began attending his anger management classes. Sure, it had been a few days since the Moonvasion, but that didn't mean his insomnia began.

It had begun since he was discovered that he was a descendant of Don Dugo, the anxiety of not knowing if he would survive facing Felldrake had caused the Caballeros to spend sleepless nights sharing their concerns; it had intensified when he began to see for his nephews even when they were in the shell with fear that they would hatch prematurely, but he had managed to moderate them when the nightmares diminished until his return to the mansion, and his loss on the desert island—

He shook his head and he perceived the stony-skin alien, observing with a severe expression but waiting patiently while trying to articulate his words.

"Have you ever felt... small?" He observed the creamy cup sideways, still perceiving it hot but distilling less smoke.

On the other hand, Penumbra's eyes widened.

“Small?” If she deciphered Donald's words or tried to know what he meant explicitly, she didn't know exactly. Something told her he wasn't being literal.

The duck nodded, leaning on the kitchen island in front of the former lieutenant, stroking the handle of the cup with his fingertip and sniffing the caffeine. That still will not generate an effect on him was already surprising.

“Missing, that you do not belong to a place or… to a group of people?” With uncertainty, he fiddled with his fingers, looking anywhere except in the eyes of his companion.

Even the Moon, having been his prison, looked lovely.

For a moment his voice was more scratchy than usual, and he feared that would make it more unintelligible to Penumbra. He really hated to be so vulnerable, especially to people he was not so familiar with; but despite his strict attitude, Donald saw himself in her.

And he felt he could trust. That is, though Della used to be dumb, she had managed to sympathize and see something that he still didn't.

But if he were attentive to the Moonlander's reactions, he would have perceived her eyes opening in realization after she understood Donald's message even though he had somehow made his voice less understandable.

Her people had been able to empathize with the Earthers as soon as they discovered the true intentions of the General, partly because they were not a warlike society and could not deny it. But she was still in that process.

The gravity, the strange customs of which Della did not speak in her not-so-absurd-anymore stories, the difficulty she had to socialize with people who were not the twins’ family, and even talk to _Scrooge _ had been complicated because he was always alert despite Della's constant reminder about their friendship.

Honestly, she couldn't blame him. The only Moonlander he interacted with at the time was Lunaris while invading his planet; she couldn't judge that he thought prejudicedly.

She felt that she still had a long way to go to call Earth her new homeworld.

Unless she decided to return to the Moon and command under a new mandate, but the truth eradicated that neither she nor the Moonlanders wanted to remember that for a few moments they were the bad guys.

"Hmm," Donald humming, savoring again the strong essence of black coffee over his heavy eyelids.

It was at that moment that she realized that she thought out loud. But the duck's distant gaze attracted more attention.

"Is that what prevents you from sleeping?" For a moment she wanted to think that it wasn’t like that, and that Donald simply wanted to know her more or rather, to bring up a topic of conversation, but he had been too specific with the question that it could not go unnoticed, and that his eyes soften more did nothing but make her lean on the kitchen island next to him, folding her arms on her chest.

The sailor hesitated before sighing heavily, removing his sleeping cap to start fiddling with it and wrinkling it further in the process.

"I really thought they were looking for me, that my warning had really come to them." He spoke slowly, dragging his words so that she could understand him, seeing sideways that she tilted her head without softening her brow. "But the moment I saw my sister and my uncle, they did nothing but scold me because I was supposed to be on the cruise... they didn't even know if I took the bus that would take me.”

He constantly moved his arms trying to emphasize his point, and the more he spoke the more he could feel the anger, helplessness and essentially tears threatening to pour out of his eyes, roughly carving them with the sleeve of his shirt.

"They must have their reasons. Don't be so rude to you.” Penumbra was perhaps not the best comforting people, she recognized that. She never managed to do it with Della, and she certainly didn't presume to do it with Donald, but she knew she should try when she clumsily put her hand on his shoulder and felt him too tense.

She had seen in the first instance that he was the bravest man in two worlds and that he was not as puny as she had believed.

"I know, maybe I'm being very selfish. But it hasn't let me sleep for whole nights, and I don't think coffee can keep covering that. Since Della came back we have done nothing but venture and every time I get tired faster” he made another sip of his coffee to discover that he had already drunk everything and sighed heavily. “I understand that she wanted to spend time with the boys, I would have voluntarily moved away from being here so she can recover the time lost with them. But what would they not even have thought of calling me, even if they thought I was on the cruise, to tell me that my long lost sister had returned? They know me better than that, they would know that I would left everything to come ‘ere."

“And where were you, by the way?" The alien asked after a few seconds of silence, tightening her grip when the sailor tensed even more, if that was possible. He, meanwhile, let out a yawn from his beak for what he believed would be the first time in days.

She accepted not having understood the majority, but some keywords that allowed her to decipher the message. Although she really didn't understand what that croissant he was talking about so much.

"She didn't tell you?" Fantastic. Just fantastic. Donald had muttered under his breath as he rubbed the bridge of his beak, remembering the reprimands of his twin and uncle because he ate with despair as soon as they served dinner, ignoring the grunts of his stomach (the truth was that he was already used to it, while his nephews could eat when they lived with him in the houseboat) and the desire to eat something that was not sand and sea water.

Maybe I should go to that island for a year, he thought sarcastically. Or return to New Quackmore Institute. No one would notice that he left even if he was on the border between Duckburg and St. Canard. Maybe the triplets needed help, and the truth is that he wanted to see what happened to them, Ari, Rug Bear and Xandra after so long.

"I didn't land in Duckburg as I expected, but on a desert island for months. Though I made a new friend, I doubt you can meet him. He died at the hands of my cousin” for moment, he dragged his words more than usual and looked at nothing trying not to concentrate again on the sand in his plumage, the wounds of his body, the constant fights with crabs, the sand and salt water running down his throat. The constant efforts he made in swimming out only to be returned by a wave, send distress signals that, due to his bad luck, were destroyed when airplanes and rescue boats passed, the constant fights with crabs.

And having to hide from the spacecrafts as soon as the invasion began, remembering the blows on his stomach, how he was captured against his will and the small legs of the scorpion entering his shirt and walking on the back of his neck—

Penumbra snapped quickly in front of the lost look of the duck, to which he blinked rapidly.

"I'm sorry." For a moment his gaze was blurred, making him question whether it was the black coffee or the sleep deprivation.

The Moonlander sighed. She didn't know whether to take into account that for a moment Donald's breathing had accelerated, as well as the feeling of inconstant beats in his shoulder blades.

"... And how did you survive?" She couldn't lie, that question was going through her thoughts since she met the twins on the ship, but she had never found the perfect time to do it without disturbing the family, fully aware that they didn't know about it and that he didn't was interested in revealing it.

Finally, she pulled her hand away when he felt the duck's deep breath while he calmed down.

“Honestly? I don't know, my luck never tends to be in my favor” but it had been so ironic that she doubted it was satire.

The bitter expression of the former lieutenant focused on the duck. His limbs were shaking slightly, gripping the ivory cup so tightly that the possibility that he could tear it apart was not minimal, and the prominence of his dark circles made him look... _old_.

"And... why don't you talk to them? They seem to know much more than... me, of these things" she swallowed, pride included, trying not to say that they seemed to understand him better "they could help you."

It was definitely the lack of sleep that made her to say so many silly nonsenses. Yes, that was it.

For its part, the duck had to fight against his willpower not to laugh mockingly, doubting before moving away from the alien to approach the sink and open the tap, carving his eyes as he grunted before beginning to rinse the cup withstanding the cold water.

"Do you really think Uncle Scrooge will agree to help me? He has become more stingy than I remembered, besides..." What was _stingy_? Penumbra thought, before shaking her head and watching Donald, who had suddenly hunched over and moved slower "I doubt he will, now that _Della's_ back."

Well, now the former captain was confused. In the short time that she had been living with the twins, both seemed to have enough appreciation, looking like a great team and only one duck at the same time, intelligence and strength alike (maybe it was the 'twins thing' that Della hasn't stopped chattering since they entered the mansion together); nevertheless, he had spoken with such disdain his sister's name, and his touch while doing the dishes had become more aggressive that still surprised her that it did not show signs of a crack.

"What do you mean?" She snapped when Donald continued to growl under his breath, before stamping the container against the counter, creaking when an extensive crack appeared on its surface.

"She was always Scrooge's favorite, everything she wanted was given to her instantly, many of those things even behind my back." The image of the Spear of Selene landing shook his mind for a few seconds, and he couldn't help to squint, "me? Unless it was a necessity, he hardly spent a penny on me."

The guitar to channel his anger and find a more de-stressing hobby, speech therapies to understand him better. A part of his mind clouded the fact that he and his sister both supported his liking for grunge music, even buying clothes with which he could feel more comfortable with himself; the money imposed by his uncle when he told him about his anger management classes behind Della's back, or how much these therapies helped him have a more intelligible dialect, at least until he stopped attending them after their discussion.

"I'm not really sure..." At what point was she fully understanding Donald? She didn't know, but she appreciated it, she could have a more bearable conversation with him.

"Anyway," he sighed as he turned off the faucet. He dried his hands and laid the dishes in the wringer, "thanks for listening, I suppose. I needed someone to talk to."

"Um…"

What was she supposed to say? 'No problem'? Donald needed... _help_? And she didn't think she could provide it. She tried to think that at least he was more responsible than his sister and washed the dishes, but knowing so abruptly that he carried that way of thinking, and that it did prevent him from sleeping for entire nights, went beyond what she knew. On the Moon, she had had the General to talk about her problems, and Della had had both her and Lunaris, but to know that Donald didn't, and that he also carried that weight because he thought the family wouldn't mind causing a bump on her.

"Is nothing?"

But her mind knew there was something. And she doubted being able to carry that fact.

* * *

When Della woke up in the late-night, she was certainly surprised not to see Penumbra, but the truth was that she couldn't blame her either.

She could understand that all this represented a big change for her, even she had had a hard time getting used to how much everything had changed in the manor and with her family since her first day back on Earth, so she tried to downplay it and go for a glass of water to the kitchen, her dry throat being able to more than her reason diminished by sleep.

However, of all the scenarios she would have expected to see as Scrooge McDuck's niece, certainly Donald and Penumbra on the same stage was not one of them.

Don't misunderstand her, she love her brother; but he was so reluctant to talk to new people and much more to enter into trust, at least so fast.

But this? She didn't know how, or when, or why, but both of them had fallen asleep sitting on the stools of the kitchen island, their heads resting on the furniture and snoring listening. Penumbra had her hand resting on Donald's back in an attempt to hug and they both used their pillow arms, and she couldn't help smiling.

Though it was charming, she didn't want to imagine her uncle's (or worse, Beakley's) reaction when he (she) saw them sleeping there.

"Pss, Penny." She approached them slowly, modulating her voice to be heard. Penumbra was who was closest, and could not help shaking her shoulder slightly. "Penny?"

The Moonlander growled before slightly opening her eyes, blinking until her eyes got used to the glimpse of Della's shadow.

"What are you doing 'ere, hun? Was the bed too soft for you?" Despite the joking tone, she couldn't help looking at the alien with concern as she carved her eyes to withdraw sleep from them.

"No, I wanted to..." from the corner of her eye she saw Donald, sleeping soundly and calmly "walk a little before sleep."

Had she doubted? They didn't know, neither was able to think properly over fatigue.

"And you met Donnie, should I guess?" Despite that, she couldn't help smiling while looking at her twin. "Though it's nice that you want to know each other better, don't look for places so uncomfortable to rest, what would my uncle say about that?"

Despite that, Della laughed, covering her beak so as not to startle the exhausted duck.

"It doesn't seem to bother him," that, and he really needed to sleep. Penumbra couldn't help but look sideways at Donald, who seemed to be in deep sleep despite the awkward position he was in.

Given that, the woman could not help smiling with melancholy, a sad glow in her eyes. _When was the last time she saw her brother that tired, but it was from experiences away from home that he really did not want to explain to date?_

"So it seems..." She leaned gently against Penumbra's arm to feel her hand further ruffling her hair, kissing her cheek quickly before she could complain, "can you help me take this boy to his boat? I may not know Donald as much as I should after so many years, but I know my brother, and I doubt he wakes up so easily."

Surprisingly, Penumbra glimpsed the nostalgia on her roommate's face when she gently patted her twin's back, and though she was still a novice on the subject of feelings, she knew there was something behind Della's gaze.

But maybe she would leave it for another time, she already had enough with a sibling's problems.

"Sure, why not?" She tried to show unconcern, approaching the sailor before the duck could say anything.

But Donald snored unexpectedly, startling Penumbra and Della had to snort so as not to give a laugh that woke the man.

"I told ya," she was smiling amused, and the Moonlander rolled her eyes before carrying the sleepy duck.

It was simple, she had already done it on the Moon and he wasn't heavy. But she didn't remember him being so _light_, he weighed much less than Della when they used to weigh the same!

She literally expected him to weigh more thanks to the weight of gravity!

Penumbra sighed regretfully. It was better for Donald to talk to his family soon or else she would do it, and she wouldn't think she'll have the same touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda edgy thing, ohyeah.


	5. Observer (ft. Louie Duck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, being the sharper wasn't a cool thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donald tries his best. It could implied him being trans, but I leaved it open to interpretation. ^^
> 
> Also, Dahlia's name's credit goes to @misslenabrooke !

If enough attention was paid to each Duck triplet, it was remarkable that, while together they were a recognizable team, independents had their own strengths.

The triplet dressed in red was intelligent and temperamental. You constantly saw her in the public library, writing in her guidebook or accompanying her Woodchuck troop. It is who mostly participates in classes.

The triplet dressed in blue was the energetic, theater kid. You constantly saw him in the school plays or surrounded by people both in the classroom and in the cafeteria. It is who, in turn, participates more in P.E.

And the triplet dressed in green was schematic and greedy. You constantly saw him in the halls with his cellphone, chatting with students in a discreet attempt to defraud them or simply observing his surroundings parsimoniously. He's the most relaxed, but who had the highest average in math.

It could be said that Dahlia always knew _what to say_ — unless she should lie, of course. Dewford always knew _when_ to act.

On the other hand, Llewellyn always knew _how_ to act.

He didn't know if he went oblivious or they just ignored him, but the occasions when he looked up from his cellphone or while scribbling in his notebook were not meaningless. Maybe it gave a lazy perspective on him, but that didn't mean he didn't do anything unlike his brothers.

Well, not always.

Because yes, each triplet had its own virtue. Louie's, however, was discreet.

And he was the observer.

Of course, all three had sharp eyes; but by not focusing on an extracurricular activity, he could focus on certain aspects that his siblings don't.

For example, how Dollie was uncomfortable when they highlighted her masculine features — which, by the way, were still not very noticeable as they still did not enter puberty — and how her shoulders tensed, trying to keep calm so that a outburst didn't get her in trouble with the teachers.

Until it turned out and, of course, it ended up in Uncle Donald arguing with the headmaster for allowing teasing and insults towards his niece.

Or how Dewey watched his arm during the exams, believing himself to be subtle enough. He never said anything in defense of his brother. Sometimes he was discovered, sometimes not, but that allowed his older brother to maintain good grades, at least within the average.

Or how stressed Donald looked day to day.

And that technically was the most unnoticed, so Louie was surprised to be able to visualize it because, as notorious as it was, his uncle commonly tried not to prove it, much less in front of them.

But the more he grew, the more obvious it was, and the harder it was for him to keep quiet about it.

Four-years-old. The nights when he woke up due to a nightmare and went to seek comfort in his uncle's arms, he stopped in his steps when he not saw him in his room and, instead, saw him in the dining room with a calculator, a notebook and several papers surrounding him. Some had words written in red, words whose meaning would be sure he would look for the next morning with support from his brother, but he knew they should be important if they kept him up late at night. His nightshirt looked wrinkled and his feathers scruffy. 

While that was the first time he saw him in that state, it certainly wasn't the last, always hidden on the stairs.

Anyway, whatever kept his father figure occupied did not allow him to see that one of the ducklings was awake.

"Each time they are more indebted, and I can't ask for help from... it would be one more." Donald muttered every night, and Louie never understood how the sentence ended, or who he mentioned, but he was sure he was always a different person. Sometimes a group of people.

That was the beginning of the most durable nanny stays; and certainly the ones that he and his brothers enjoyed most were Cousin Max, triplets that were friends with his uncle, and Grandma Duck.

The greatest dose of good luck was when Uncle Gladstone suddenly came to visit with Grandma. He could say that a small part of his uncle's debts had been reduced, and perhaps that was the most tearful thanks he could have given.

Six-years-old. One more move. His uncle was not clear about it, but the triplets were already accustomed to them. Of course, every time the residences and apartments became smaller, impossible for a small broken family to support.

The only difference is that on that occasion they went to a small houseboat. He had heard Donald talk about one last hope, and he really seemed hesitant to let three hyperactive toddlers be in the limited space of a boat that clearly needed repairs.

That was the last move. And although the visits of Max, April, May and June were critically reduced and Grandma looked after them selflessly, they made her uncle's absences more noticeable; sometimes shorter, sometimes longer, and Louie couldn't help crying silently when he recognized the gentle, familiar touch tucking him and stroking his hair, to end with a kiss on his head.

"I'm so sorry, boys." Donald will apologize every night, his voice broken, and the desire to get up and snuggle in his arms, crying how much he missed him, it didn't spare him.

Don't get him wrong, he loves both Elvira and Max, and he got fond of the triplets. But they were not the person who changed his diapers — with the occasional exception of his grandmother — and taught him to talk and walk.

But he knew he couldn't. Being so considerate of them, it would amount to more time at home and less time at work, it would amount to more economic difficulties.

Louie couldn't be the evil triplet with his uncle. Much less when less than a week ago he had heard him cry during a phone call, begging to keep his job.

And while he never told his brothers about it, that image was still in his head.

He didn't want it to be repeated.

Seven-years-old. It could be said that living in a small place further sharpened the sight of an imaginative preschool child. Like the way in which, during the month, the shopping list was shortened, particularly when their birthdays or Christmas approached; how restless his uncle got when there were sales, and how concentrated he looked while comparing prices.

And how his knuckles tightened in the shopping cart when there were whispers and murmurs dedicated to them.

Apparently single parents are not a common thing in Duckburg, especially in the case of triplets, but it was no lie that Louie was happy with them despite the many difficulties.

He recognizes the expression on Donald's face when he tries not to have an outburst of anger and prefers to make deaf ears, making calculations and trying to make purchases with a low budget.

And to tell the truth, it was Louie's cusp moment to approach the carts of people who spoke ill of their uncle to take what he can while they are distracted...

Occasionally it was from the shelves where he took the food from, and fortunately his visualization of the angles allowed him to recognize when to do his thing, counting on brothers who covered his back.

The important thing was to have food in their fridge.

That year is founded Louie's Kids, and though it is difficult, he cannot say no to his uncle's smile, always willing to help even if it's out of his way.

Who knows, maybe one day he's as rich as Scrooge McDuck and can help Donald. Huey already does it with the electricity bill after all.

Nine years-old. Dahlia Duck is born.

He had never seen his sister so scared since joining the Junior Woodchucks — and, honestly and surprisingly, it had been merely good luck that his Uncle Donald will still have his uniform of his time in the troop.

But she was very intelligent, and it wouldn't be long until her gender dysphoria, whatever that was, had meaning.

And he couldn't be more grateful for it. He loved Dollie very much but having seen her so nervous and not being able to ask her without her becoming a trembling mass was driving him crazy.

"I have a sister!" Dewey would shout at the four winds before pouncing on her and hugging her between laughs.

He had simply raised his thumb in support, and for some reason his uncle was on the verge of tears. He had shared a few words with his sister alone and finally saw them again while they prepared dinner together.

And though everything had finished well and during the next few days her sister's poles had modernized and were now dresses, in addition to the addition of skirts and overalls to the closet — courtesy of an adult who made Halloween costumes for almost a decade —, it had made that adult more overprotective.

"Let me know if they bother you." For some reason, he looked more nervous than usual while arranging his niece's cap, even aghast, the smaller triplet thought while he finished his breakfast.

"Yes, Uncle Donald," the little duckling replied once more, finishing fixing her backpack to continue helping Donald as she used to do every morning.

The adult sighed, finishing preparing the last lunch.

"I know I've said it many times, but not everyone reacts the same, even in the 21st century there are people who feel superior to you for thinking differently and... I just want you to be well." He had crossed his arms, and his gaze had turned bright and distant.

"I know," smiling gently, his older sister ceasing to help her guardian to hug him, not caring if she wrinkled her clothes.

He didn't know what they had talked about, but apparently it had made them closer, and for some reason he couldn't face it.

So he did what he always did and preferred to get distracted and continue eating before his breakfast finished chilling. Although he will try to hide it from his nephews and niece, Louie's keen eye was still feeling his uncle's tension.

He always sensed his uncle's tension.

But it wasn't until they arrived at the school that they knew that not everyone reacted the same to Donald Duck, and the comments had not been expected for the first class.

And though the siblings had already made up their mind, it was not easy, much less for their uncle in the last PTA meeting.

Since that day he has seen his uncle looking for another school in which to enroll his wards, one in which his sister can be accepted; dedicating a small part of their reduced salaries in savings for a new educational institution.

He had honestly never seen his uncle so determined on a goal. This goal discovered an afternoon in which he did not attend classes due to illness.

That made Louie wonder how a man as dedicated and hardworking as his uncle struggled so hard to find a steady job.

Unfortunately, not everything turned out well if you were the most unlucky duck in the world, and that led to today: the every-day bullies bothering his sister. This time using her Junior Woodchucks guidebook as an object of fun.

It would be better for him to act soon, before Dollie's temper makes its own.

* * *

Ten-years-old. They begin to accompany Donald in his varied works.

The triplets had reached a consensus in which they already considered themselves too old to need a babysitter, and their uncle refused to leave them alone, already aware of how naughty they can be by joining minds.

So they decided to be unanimous and there they were.

Maybe they couldn't be outside his radio unless it was necessary, but that allowed them to leave the houseboat and they were satisfied.

After all, who claimed they couldn't have adventures if they intended? They were young and the imagination had no boundaries.

Surprisingly it made him discover that his uncle could be multitasking, and doubts about his unemployment were resolved to the bad character and awful luck which he was possessor of, in addition to the distancing when the improvement of position promised the family.

What was really the reason why his Uncle Donald wanted to maintain a normal life, a common job and an average family? Louie thought day after day. Normal, common and average bored.

New employment, more money and little by little it seemed that his uncle's bankruptcy was diminishing, though the difficulties continued to arise in the form of tax collectors, job losses, bank calls, bills that Donald vainly concealed and again the acquisition of nannies.

It didn't help at all that they had not known about Uncle Gladstone for months.

But hey, it was nothing they weren't used to. Louie was sure that sooner or later his uncle's efforts will bear fruit.

Or he was, until he discovered that he had more family than he thought.

"Donald Duck..." there had been so many scenarios in which he had imagined knowing Scrooge McDuck, one less likely than another.

"Uncle Scrooge..." wait, what?

And certainly that was not one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was better in my head dammit.


	6. Meet-Cute (ft. DUno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving to stay, Uno could not be more satisfied to see Donald's look once more.

As an artificial intelligence, Uno could be considered the most advanced existing in the 20st century. Modesty aside, he could be considered the greatest project of Master Everett, and that’s why he could not feel more proud.

He was the soul of the Ducklair Tower, in the blink of an eye he could secure enough to keep his master's secrets protected, be the eye in Duckburg's sky and also polymath.

Very literally. Analyzing each camera, always active, the AI could be alert to any unforeseen situation on the streets of the city, and the network was not as protected against invaders as high companies thought — or, at least, not against invaders like _him_.

Anyway, he knew a vigilante who could handle adversity easily. And he was sure he wouldn't mind protecting his home and family.

It is not as if I had done it for two years.

*

“I'm back!”

Despite not needing to breathe, Uno could feel how he relaxed when he heard the sole of the boots on the secret floor, Donald crawling with exhaustion and ignorant of the screech they cause.

"Welcome, honey, how was work?" But for some reason, Uno did not want his partner to discover that he was worried about him, so that, simulating the appearance and voice of a housewife mockingly, he made a chair and a coffee table appear.

Paperinik collapsed in the chair, dropping his cap to the floor, the intelligence being able to perceive at a glance the dark tone under the plumage of the superhero's cheek and how he held his side making a grin.

"Bad," he growled, trying to ignore the pain in his body to take off his boots, sighing with relief as he began to massage his webbed feet without bothering to remove the voice modulator. “I underestimate tonight’s thieves too much; they are currently in prison, but I think I'm not as dynamic as I thought after after two years of heroism.”

Uno sighed heavily before his metal hands began to massage the duck's shoulders in circles. One of the disadvantages of not being biological is the inability of touch; but judging from the hoarse exhaled sigh, it was necessary.

"You must be more careful, PK. And listen to me when I tell you if those criminals are petty or not. Apparently they broke your left rib and twisted your wrist, but besides that and your bruised cheek you don't have deep wounds, but I need to check them to make sure they aren't _ too _ serious.”

Donald growled under his breath and, despite not being able to read his thoughts, he did not hesitate to access, finally withdrawing the modulator and the mask.

"You must be hungry after a busy night, Old Cape. Do you want to eat something specific?” Leaving the hero's shoulders hesitantly, he arranged a small plate with chocolate cookies and a glass of milk on the coffee table.

It wasn't a buffet, but it would keep his partner distracted while he took care of the medicine cabinet.

“I'm fine thanks. The important thing is to secure the wounds, and perhaps keep them discreet in Scrooge, Della and Duckworth’s eyes” still, he took one of the cookies with his healthy hand.

Opening the first aid kit, Uno could not help but roll his eyes. Despite the considerably good record, Donald was too relaxed for his taste, at least as far as his double identity was concerned, and he was honestly surprised that he agreed to be checked without thinking twice.

Perhaps the wounds were unbearable, he wanted to think taking the bottle of alcohol.

"Well, Avenger, I will need you to take off your suit," he said abruptly, and smiled slyly when the man was about to choke on the milk. "I want to take care of the chest first, being the most injured area, but I need your cooperation. Besides, you have changed in front of me multiple times, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

And trying to ignore the rising heat at the soothing tone of his partner, he began to undress, drowning in vain the moans of acute pain.

Before the duck finished unfastening his belt — with Uno's help given his crooked wrist providing more clumsiness, they both knew it would be a long night.

* * *

However, as an android, Uno felt that he had much to learn. In spite of the technological advance that was the tower, he could not say the same of the machinery and robotics even after eleven years since he was deactivated. Primitive, he felt that his master's old suit did not cover enough screws and intersection points.

He would have to change that as soon as he left the tower. He was sure that he could not bother because a little money was reduced in his account, the economic benefit being the last thing interesting for his inventor.

Pressing the lobby button awkwardly, he appreciated for a moment his blurry reflection in the elevator doors. He recognized that having transferred his computer system to the body had been impressive, but having no total control of the tower as he wanted, he knew that going down one hundred and fifty-one stories would be a late experience.

Meanwhile, the android continued to contemplate his reflection. Certainly, it could be said that he had almost completely replicated the appearance of Everett Ducklair, being stature the only difference.

And speaking of that, he would soon have to decide which alias he could use, if he did not choose to be called Uno.

But while he was fixing the scruffy synthetic hair, a smile slipped on his face.

He couldn't wait to see Donald's face when he saw him.

*

Fitting the shirt and reciting what he would say once again, Uno's eyes widened when he began to ascend Killmotor Hill.

He had seen it more times than he remembered through surveillance cameras, but he had to admit that it was completely different. He didn't remember that he had big changes eleven years ago anyway.

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt when the taxi started up the hill. He knew that he also had his master's vehicle available and the Duckmobile could be altered and his fellow hero's car could not be distinguished, but installing driving programs and modifying the car would take time, perhaps more than it cost to build his body, and honestly he wanted to see Donald.

Probably his impatience was contagious.

That is probably why he quickly got out of the little yellow car, paying a fee and tip clumsily. He still had to master his new legs, but fortunately he was a quick learner.

"Save the change!" Uno could already feel the smile on his face once more. He stumbled, certain to be seen only by the taxi driver before she began to drive away.

It's not like he's going to tell Donald after all.

And speaking of, the android could see him through the slits of the gate. Turning his back, he leaned against the copilot door of old 313, apparently talking on the phone.

He must admit that he looked good when he was wearing a tuxedo.

"Okay, Della, don't worry, I'll buy it right now… No, no, I just got back from work, how are the kids?" As he used to do when he was restless, he began to pace in front of the entrance, this time playing with his jacket flap.

Uno's smile became warm.

"What about Uncle Scrooge?" He stopped once more, putting his free hand on his hip. It was perhaps too gratifying to no longer see a bandaged wrist trying to be foolishly hidden, as well as a deflated cheek.

He could still remember to visualize how much it had cost Donald to excuse himself twelve years ago, even though it was such a _**banal thing**_ like a _Beagle Boys' assault._

Until the duck finally caught a glimpse of him, and he grimaced without taking the cellphone away from his ear. Whatever kept the man busy, he knew that was not the reason for his scrutiny.

"I have to hang up, my boss is calling me. Be careful, I love you." A smile peeked over his face, and he was sure that his gaze shone for a moment on the prominent dark bags under his eyes.

Anyway, those moments were ephemeral. As soon as the call ended, he did not answer his boss', who was probably already waiting for him.

As if it were a wasted candle, his partner's gaze went out again, and his frown returned.

He knew he couldn't blame him.

"Hey, what's the big idea?!" This time addressing him, the robot noticed Donald's tense shoulders, “if you come to see Scrooge McDuck do it another time, he isn’t here at this moment.”

It made him look like the thirties he was now, and he disliked it. Still, he couldn't help smiling with sneer. Apparently the family had gone on an adventure, and wanted to take advantage of that time.

"Is that how you get an old friend who just wants to surprise you, Hero?" Looking down and putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he giggled when he heard the aforementioned snort in fear, “I knew you loved me but not so much.”

Despite the sarcasm, he saw himself giving a small smile to his partner. His face was the poem he knew it would be, and before he knew it he was guarding the moment in his database.

On the other hand, Donald felt his vision cloudy, his throat dry and his sweaty hands, feeling like the cellphone slipped until it fell from his hands, the sound of the screen cracking invading the environment. He would recognize that look, that modulated voice wherever he went.

But that was practically impossible, right? Otherwise he would have to run to the houseboat on the humble patch of Car-Cans at his disposal, despite his trembling legs.

He had promised to leave that life behind, let the acclaimed superhero die as soon as he heard the triplets cry for the first time; and to date he had not reconsidered returning to it.

Head H could wait a few more minutes.

"U-Uno?" But, in addition to Gyro, he recognized that only one person, or intelligence, knew of the existence of that double life.

But he had literally seen him die, and he couldn't cry it because the Spear incident occurred. No, it_ can’t—_

“I'm really sorry for the delay, the Tower was reactivated a few weeks ago, and since then I've been rebuilding this body." Uno interrupted his thoughts, lightly rolled up his coat to show the intersection points under the synthetic feathers of his arm, the smile without disappearing from his face when he saw the astonished expression of his friend; “I missed you too, Old Cape.”

As if it were a trigger, that nickname was enough for tears to begin to fall freely down the duck's cheeks.

It _ can _be, he thought agaze and not bothering to wipe away his tears.

“U-Uno?" Finally he could speak after what were tortuous seconds, feeling his breath fade into a breath he didn't know he had contained, repeating once more the name that he would not think to mention again.

As if on cue, the manor's gate opened, and Uno adjusted the sleeve again. Despite the speed of his circuits, he could not react when the duck pounced on him, the untrained robotic legs causing them both to fall.

The Agency could definitely wait a few minutes.

"This is a dream, right? It can't really be you.” Muttering in tears, he hid his face in the nook of the tallest duck's neck. The android smiled sadly fiddling with the hair feathers.

"Did you really think you will get rid of me so easily?" If he had known that the feathers were very soft, he would have made a body with a sensory system sooner. With one hand he caressed Donald's head affectionately and with the other he attached him against him. “I thought you had more faith in me.”

He was there, he really was there. And judging by the reaction of his partner, he knew he would not regret it. But now he would have to concentrate on finding a new benchmark for his database; he didn't think he could tolerate being away from him anymore.

That, and mentalize how to answer the family's questions as soon as they returned, because he had arrived to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a Valentine's Day special. I'm such a big disaster lol.  
I hope you had a nice February 14!


	7. Sleeping Agent (ft. DoubleDuck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald has a new mission. But he might not like the context at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> between college and rps in discord, i found myself with so much writer blocks for this book. but i'm back, now with an idea about how many one-shots the collection will have!

Crossing the door of the manor, Donald rubbed his temples trying to ignore the back pain and migraine that were starting to increase, feeling his wings burn. He was sure he had lost a few layers, and though he had made sure to shower properly on the return jet, he was sure to continue to suck in the mix of odors that were sweat, tobacco and leather from his last mission well above the excess second-hand cologne that had been oversprayed.

Or maybe those scents were still permeated in his nostrils and he was being very dramatic, because he had inhaled them when he was wearing his tuxedo, tuxedo that he now kept in a briefcase in the trunk of his minivan, and he was completely sure that the signs of Kay K's perfume was still present on his shirt from the moment she'd hugged him when he said goodbye to her.

Finally stopping the car, and feeling full in the familiar environment that was the mansion, he allowed the ghost of a smile to appear on his face. He could perceive the lights on inside, indicating that the family had already returned from the recent adventure.

He could already hear his sister's talk about the temple they had visited and the treasure she had found, even how the children, being the incredible preteens they were, had favored the search. He could already hear Huey talk about the discoveries he had added — that even though he didn't understand it was worth it to see his nephew smile. He could already hear Dewey and Webby bragging about the amazing — and dangerous — maneuvers they had performed. And he certainly could hear Louie stammering about the treasure they would now have found, the value it might have had it not been for Scrooge keeping everything in his money bin.

Surely they would add one more pang to his headache, but that was the charm of his family and he doubted he could trade it for all the treasures in the world.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he got out of the vehicle turning the key between his fingers, inhaling the warm aroma of home. Until he finally chose to crack his back, growling under his breath at the sound of his bones snapping.

"Not bad for a sleeper agent," he dared to murmur cautiously, grinning as he felt his heavy lids. And is that to have dealt with life-threatening missions, the Agency had commissioned a walk in the park; that it had been as exhausting as an old mission— wow, he hadn't realized how much he missed feeling this adrenaline.

Which, by the way, was not easy to hide during adventures. Fortunately his yearning to protect from protecting triplets — _and_ Webby — was stronger.

"I'm sure Kay K thinks the same thing..." He sighed happily, remembering the sparkle in the agent's expression when they made eye contact, feeling the same haze in his gaze before Head H's attentive gaze, "we've been apart for so long, I have a lot to tell her."

_But now,_ Donald thought allowing a yawn to escape his beak, _it was time to rest._ Yes, he had missed being the agent DoubleDuck, but his favorite part of the business was finishing the mission, going back to being Donald Duck, taking a relaxing warm shower, and sleeping; just him, his hammock, and his cozy houseboat, waiting for him with its lights on—

_Wait a minute._ He stopped abruptly, catching the key before it could escape his grasp. Though he used to be confused on some occasions, he was sure that he had kept the place in darkness at the time he was called, because the sun had not even set when it was solicited by The Agency, and his nephews would have called him if needed.

_Unless ... no, no._ He shook his head. Perhaps DoubleDuck's adrenaline was still flowing through his veins, because it was practically impossible for The Organization to be. The place would be practically a bigger mess than usual and, modesty aside, he was cautious enough to keep his double life apart — that is, ever since he _accidentally_ involved Daisy in it.

"You're overreacting, Donald," he said to himself, taking a deep breath to slow his pulse and let out a maniacal laugh, mocking himself, "surely it's Dells trying to use your stuff again."

Without realizing it, his steps had become more distant and hesitant. He was trying to think of his sister snooping in the boat one more time, or the triplets preparing to play a prank on him. His paranoia was bringing out the worst in him, he thought as she walked across the gangplank. The thrill of being the agent was over and it was time to go back to being the boring, simple Donald F. Duck, he was trying to remember himself.

"You certainly know how to hide better after so many years, DD" or maybe not. Kay K sat on his worn sofa, casually sipping from a recyclable cup. Her short hair was tied up in a yellow headband and she was wearing a new change of clothes.

In front of her, a paper bag with a dessert logo rested on the coffee table. Well, he couldn't say he was surprised.

"How did you get inside?" For a moment his voice came out rougher than normal, and clearing his throat he headed for the kitchen. He definitely needed a _gallon_ of water after that self-infused death scare, feeling his rapid pulse.

"You hide your spare keys in very typical places. You must be cautious about it." Still, she couldn't help but smile slyly, watching her partner pour himself a glass, crossing both legs in an absentminded mannerism.

If the agent was able to sense Donald's stench, she said nothing. She must assume that he was already aware of that. And definitely, the duck was thankful for that; he had enough exhaustion to bear himself with to tolerate some sarcastic behavior from his fellow agent.

"I want my family to know that they can always count on me, or that they can easily find me if they need it." What he knew was a vile lie, his presence pushed aside since Della had returned. At least it didn't sound as bad as it was on his mind, and while Kay K wasn't as credulous — she was one of the best at the agency for a reason after all, he preferred to have the benefit of the doubt about what his relationship with his family was like.

The glitter in his gaze had dimmed for a moment, and Arianne smiled empathetically. Donald was a lousy liar, but there was no doubt that he had a great heart.

"You are definitely still the same sensitive man who once entered the Agency not knowing how he entered in the first place" and judging by her smile, Donald did not feel that for once Kay K was trying to play with him, putting her vase of coffee on the coffee table, next to another closed disposable cup. "But as much as I would have liked, I didn't come here to hang out."

She tried not to laugh when her partner growled under his breath, she was as unhappy as he was. Donald's feathers had been a mess, practically since they returned to Duckburg, and that made her companion's dark circles more noticeable. At least his shirt didn't have as many wrinkles as she expected and it was neat, she could give him credit for it.

"I'm not on another mission right now, Kay K, I'm exhausted," and the agent knew he was serious, her friend had never had filters with her... outside of missions. In short, one of the benefits of being able to understand Donald Duck when you enter his social circle.

Besides, she was sure that Donald's yawn would have been able to wake up all the people who slept in the mansion if it had been stronger. Yes, he was definitely still the same man after years, and she couldn't help but be touched by that; it was as if time had never passed between them, both being aware of all the changes that had occurred in the life of the other.

It was comforting to Donald, in a way.

"Easy, super agent, this mission is more discreet, this organization is being quieter than it seems."

Well, at least they don't stand out as much unlike The Organization. At least he could rest long enough before the Agency called him to take care of it alongside Kay K, a piece of cake. Nothing he hadn't faced before...

"Have you heard of FOWL?"

Or not?

"Once?" Donald wasn't sure, but he was too exhausted to even try to remember. "I mean, I wasn't born yesterday." He smiled nervously, leaning his elbows against the sink. He was aware that he was not the only agent in the family, and his work as Paperinik had allowed him to become friends with entities that were literally out of this world, but he could not expose such information when he did not fully know the effect that this could have. Jargon of the work "but I thought SHUSH are the ones who primarily take care of them."

"They do, but we can't sit idly by until FOWL decides to act..." Ironically, Kay K crossed her arms, letting the palms of both hands rub against the leather of her jacket despite the scant cold. "Behind the back of the boss I checked cameras..."

Well, that did sound like something Kay K would do. It was not the first time he had learned of the agent's unorthodox methods on and off missions, and it certainly would not be the last.

"... How about they have the fixed point in your family?" Donald's shoulders stiffened, feeling the intense lump that had formed in his throat. From afar Arianne showed him the screen of her cell phone, where a video was played.

In it were frames, each one or several members of his family — including him — on certain adventures. The disturbing thing is that they included moments from his youth with Della, as well as with Panchito and José during their visits to the mansion.

He had been used to all manner of oddities since he crossed the porch of the mansion holding his sister's hand. Damn, a few months ago he had rediscovered alien life, on the moon of all places. Knowing that — very literally — each of his steps was watched from day to day, yet it was extremely chilling.

"Certa— certainly I wouldn't be surprised," he tried to assure, but the doubt in his voice was evident. And Arianne knew it was easy to say as a nephew of an infamous adventurer; but this was not part of what Donald was used to, and added to the mental and physical exhaustion, the agent could think about how stressful this could be.

"Sorry, I should have waited until tomorrow to say it" at least she had the decency to admit it, "but you are my friend, and since this involves you I want you to be cautious."

A worried glow stood out in Kay K's gaze, but despite the smallest duck's tired sigh a bitter smile formed on his face, silently taking his cup and removing the lid to drink the black coffee in his thoughts.

"Okay, just let me _get ready_ enough, then we'll talk," he claimed, wiping the traces of coffee on his beak. At least, the strong taste could keep him awake long enough "but try to go unnoticed, my niblings are too perceptive and curious for my taste."

A grimace had formed on his face as he went to who-knows-where, and the woman couldn't help but snort. Boy, was Donald Duck's family.

But it seemed that an agent's job never ended. Much less for a sleeping agent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it's too obvious i haven't read the new comics yet lmao. they are hard to find? i know kay k betrays donald again but this was already being written.


End file.
